The Portrait of Maria Blackburn
by TalionStormcrow
Summary: "My name is Harvey Blackburn. If you are reading this, do not touch that painting." Multi-chapter diary of a man with unending curiosity.
1. The Mansion

**Those combating fear will eventually find solace in the idea that inevitability is an automated response to the façade that is courage. Find comfort in the fact that the mind has limits, for without fear we would know not what to be afraid of.. eventually leading to our own painfully obvious demise. It's the response itself that guides our own concept of self preservation, a primal blueprint necessary for the use of survival. Fight or flight... So they say at least. But..**

 **What if you were so afraid that you couldn't even fathom the idea of fleeing? Even worse...**

 **What if you couldn't fathom the idea of fighting as well?**

If you are reading this note then it is my assumption you have found it nearly impossible to purge yourself of the incessant curiosity overwhelming your mind. You've found my diary, you snoop. It's an understandable fault given the circumstances. Here you are, inside a house you've never been in before, ecstatic about the new sights. A luxurious countryside house with an absolutely astounding view. You are no doubt happy, as you should be, and you'll no doubt find it to be well within your interest. There is, however.. as I'm sure you are well aware, every home comes with its stories and history. This is not to say that the home you are in is in no way worth your time, rather I am merely trying to convey a simple... condition that I found to be quite disquieting.

I will admit upon purchasing the house I myself was founded with a sense of wonder and bewilderment. The chandelier in the dining room is quite a spectacle in low light, offering the room a glow intent on warning the heart of its tenant. Amidst the country architecture, I found myself captured by the atmosphere surrounding the property; even the lights from the city could not penetrate this realm of humanless nirvana. Behind the house, a lake is overlooked by the patio bearing itself upon an incline, whereby the viewer shall gaze at the unending array of trees.

Lovely... Truly.

In truth, this property was to be left to me by my grandfather, who was at the time a banker brought up in a family of wealthy businessmen and nurses. A strange copulation, but as you can see it had worked its magic. I grew up with a ladder of wealth, although to tell you the truth I had little to no interest in the material world as strange a thought as that might be. But oh if only you could've seen the parties thrown! That man was by no means estranged to the taste of finely aged Champagne!

Those days have long passed...and so did my grandfather, who as he grew older had, for no apparent reason made the decision to leave behind the social world. I suppose his age finally caught up to him. He retired, and in a swift and sudden move vanished into the forest in search of a new home. It was told to me that he had taken to studying wildlife in his later years, with a cabin being built somewhere along the property. Something about migratory birds having a strange problem finding direction around the area.. though none of it has been proven, indeed he had changed ever since his wife had passed but... Well I'd like to think he'd retain some sanity. I jest, of course.

Let me end this by saying that every home has its secrets. Some of which are better off remaining just that...a secret.

Harvey Blackburn.

August 19, 1922.


	2. August 20st

August 20, 1920

I am quite perplexed by the size of this manor. The façade is quite an extraordinary feat given the compact, slim look seen around the exterior. Oh Eugene… you were certainly one for grandness.

The fireplace is quite astounding. Stone flooring with brick surrounding the woodstove and two stone lions guarding it, though I do not foresee it doing much with the many rooms surrounding the area, though I suppose some renovations were in order regardless.

Note to self: Remove the portrait of the wench above the mantelpiece. Why my grandfather would have even thought of placing my aunt's portrait there is beyond me.

I seem to find it nearly impossible to avoid a quick gaze upon the grand staircase leading to the second floor, the portrait of Maria is quite a sight to see, and I couldn't think of a better place than above the stuffed black bear. I have heard the stories of her resembling such a thing; benevolent and altruistic she was… a woman of the nurturing kind. I do so wish to find out the credited artist, such a masterful piece deserves bountiful praise.

Though… Now that I think of it, it does have quite the ominous tone to it. Listen to me… Harvey you are better off taking a swig of whiskey you sleep deprived dog.

I do believe that this place was well worth the fight. Grandfather was always one to be indecisive, so it should seem fit that he would stutter when choosing a new owner for this manor. I do hope that everything goes as planned, as with the weight already upon my shoulders with investors acting like vultures it seems only a matter of time before I crack. Perhaps a good scare with the six-gun would suffice.

Whenever I pass a gaze at that portrait I instantly become overwhelmed with wonder. I cannot seem to purge from my mind a question... Why would my Grandfather wish to keep such a memory? What reason had he to everyday wander upon that otherworldly glare of Maria Blackburn, when immediately upon her passing, so I was told, had urged that any and all remnants of her residing in this manor were to be removed. If this was his wish... Why keep the portrait?

Grandfather had reserved multitudinous secrets, as I've heard. Many a folk would dare comment on his rather peculiar mannerisms regarding the many tales the manor had to tell. I suppose that's notice enough to leave..

Strange noises.. I could hear the sound of leather boots on the second floor.. though it is quite obvious that I'm the singular occupant of the property. Upon preliminary alarm I instantly jumped at the opportunity to investigate, realizing that a robbery could very well be in progress. I took advantage of the moment and ascended the staircase, to the master bedroom along the left side.

The second floor, to my surprise, was vacant. Strange, though it may just be the manor itself.


	3. August 23rd

August 23rd, 1920

The manor has proven to be quite homely for me. I am astounded by such vastness, and entranced by its beauty. Mesmerizing, truly. I hold within these walls a great sense of duty towards its survival. I have officially become responsible for its upkeep, and I can say that in no sense does it come without burden.

On a much queerer note... This morning I found Maria's portrait cocked to the side, with the helmet statue knocked over onto the floor in between the staircases in the lobby. Upon closer inspection, I have managed to find small hand prints on the corner of the portrait.. as if someone had tilted it. Strange considering I am the only resident within these walls. Upon my search of the mansion I have confirmed this.

Her stare is an oddity. It pierces me. I feel uneasy whenever I pass by it, averting her gaze every time. Though I wish to take it down.. tradition denies me so. I suppose it is fitting for her, considering her character wasn't the most _upstanding_. She was known for her racism towards the negros, so grandfather used to tell me. She was one to drink, and with drink came rather...repugnant activity. One could say she dawdled in...degeneracy.

Repugnant.

Several noises are coming from the kitchen, especially at night. The sounds of footsteps can be heard.. boots. That is what it sounds like to me. I could be wrong, as this mansion is extravagant, and has many rooms that are unoccupied. Though... I cannot help but bear this feeling of trepidation towards these strange events.

Addition:

At 12:00 pm... The freezer door opened by itself. Upon closer inspection, I found my newly bought meat to be rotten. Very strange... I will not be buying my groceries from the market in town any more.


End file.
